Rumour Has It
by delmar.alani
Summary: Everyone thinks they know Harry Potter, after all they have been hearing about his exploits for years. He's the quintessential hero! However, they couldn't be more wrong. He is a far cry from a hero. Harry was of the opinion that there really was no good and bad in this world. There's only opportunity, circumstance, and justification.
1. Prologue

Many have heard the name, Harry James Potter, but few have ever met a child such as he. There are rumours, yes. Rumours and stories of outlandish feats of bravery and magic have traveled through many a grapevine and created wondrous and fantastic images and ideas of who this child might be. However, it is but a guarantee that all of the rumours and whispers of his name are filled with lies. You see… Harry James Potter is not a great child. He has never gone on epic adventures filled with incredible beasts and feats of magic or saved damsels from dragons and boggarts. The child that the wizarding world has labeled a hero is in fact nothing of the sort. No, Harry James Potter is a far cry from a hero.

AN:

This is my first Harry Potter fanfiction. Whether or not I will continue with this story will depend on the responses receive from the readers. I am not the owner of the Harry Potter series. That privilege belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am but a humble fan writing a fiction borrowing the characters.


	2. Chapter 1: The Beginning

Suddenly, there was screaming. Harry James Potter looked around frantically at the panicked crowd of people as they ran from the reptile house. He knew he was in trouble now. His fat lard of a cousin was inside of the boa constrictor exhibit banging on the glass after somehow falling through the vanished glass. The glass was gone only for a moment, but that one second was all it took for him to fall in. His whale of an uncle's face was red and quickly deepening into a plum like purple. He knew… His freakishness was going to get him into trouble again… Vernon, his uncle, who was distracted by his screaming wife had yet to notice his nephew slowly backing away. Harry, confident that his uncle and aunt were distracted dashed out the door with the last of the exiting crowd. The talking snake was nowhere to be seen and he was momentarily glad of that. He was beginning to think he was going mad. After all, snakes didn't talk. It just wasn't possible.

His aunt Petunia, the lying blonde horse of a woman, was constantly telling him that magic was not real. Obviously, this meant that magic was _indeed_ real, but he wasn't sure if that extended to the ability to talk to animals. Could it? He shrugged. Who was to know?

Harry sighed heavily and stuck his hands into his overly large pockets as he looked up into the blue sky. It was a particularly nice day out.

"Damn shame that it turned out like this, isn't it?" he mused to himself.

Around him museum personnel were trying to calm the panicked tourists and visitors while handlers rushed into the reptile house.

"Well, I'm not going back in there that's for sure" he said to himself.

He knew that if Vernon got his hands on him before he had time to cool off that he would be in for a horrible and he meant **HORRIBLE** time. The last time he had used his _freakishness_ , which he was pretty sure was some form of magic, Vernon had whipped him with the metal side of a belt until his back bled. He was going to make it his personal mission to avoid his family for the next few days even if it meant being homeless and lost in London for a while. It wouldn't be the first time he had had to sleep outside anyway.

"Alright, first order of business- locate money! Probably going to have to get out of the zoo too before Vernon smartens up and has the workers find me"

He knew that stealing was wrong, but to be honest that had never stopped him before. You had to break rules if you wanted to survive in an unfair world and he was a survivor.

In the commotion the workers manning the refreshment stand had left. They quite understandably had followed the stampede of customers out and away from this general area of the zoo. It was perfect for him. Ever the opportunist he walked to the stand and stared down the tip box.

"Here's a tip… get a better job" he muttered to himself as he pocketed the handful of coins.

Walking around the stand he opened the cash register.

"Sweet! I've always wanted a fifty pound note!" his exclamation rang out in the empty stand as he filled his pockets for once thankful that his aunt had given him Dudley's oversized pants as the pockets fit the wadded bills quite nicely.

Harry was of the opinion that there really was no good and bad in this world. Morals were personal opinions and constructs that people created for themselves and religion was a load of bollocks. People liked to have rules and morals because it made them feel better about themselves and life. They couldn't resist the feelings of security that it brought them to know that there were certain social rules that everyone knew and followed. They didn't have to worry about making certain choices because there were imaginary rules that told them they shouldn't do something and if they didn't do something then it was likely that other people didn't do it either. No, there was no good or bad. There were only opportunity, circumstance, and justification.

Everyone knows that killing someone without a reason is called murder and murder is wrong. However, with the right circumstances no one would bat an eyelash if someone killed a person in self-defense. Beating a child for no reason is wrong and is called abuse. Although, if the child is a trouble-maker beating him bloody with a belt is called discipline. He had decided long ago that the Romans were right. Carpe diem all the bloody way. It couldn't possibly be bad if it benefitted himself.

Harry walked calmly toward the exit of the zoo with a happy grin plastered across his face.

'Best score ever,' he thought to himself.

He had walked around a bit before deciding he wanted to see the sights. He had snuck into Madam Tussaud's Wax Museum by walking behind a couple and pretending to be their child. He thought it was pretty cool to see all the wax figures of celebrities and thought it might be nice to have one of himself one day.

Wouldn't it be nice if people knew and loved his name? He would wear nice clothes instead of the rags that his family gave him. He could travel around the world and visit the seven wonders. He would be the single most interesting person in the world.

All around the world people would hear his name and go, "Did you hear about Harry Potter?".

They would talk endlessly about all of his adventures and accomplishments.

Harry trailed after the couple until they left the museum and decided to get some lunch for himself.

If you got it, spend it.

He bought himself a Happy Meal from McDonald's and drank his first ever Coke. It was glorious! He had never had the luxury of eating fast food or drinking a fizzy drink. No wonder Dudley was so fat if it tasted this good.

Done eating he continued on with his adventure. He visited 221B Baker Street, Russel Square, the British Museum, the National Gallery, and there were a few others he wanted to see. Somewhere along the line he had stolen someone's bike. Really, it wasn't his fault though. If they had really wanted their bike they would have chained it to a post or something. Obviously, the fates wanted him to have it. Well, they would if they existed anyway. Which- he imagined- they might as magic _did_ exist.

It wasn't until dark that he saw it. He had just finished biking around Borough Market when he sat down to rest on a bench. It wasn't a quick discovery or realization. Really, it was quite a coincidence. He was simply staring off into nothing when he noticed a pub. It wasn't even a nice pub. The sign on the outside was chipped and faded, the door looked worn, and there was hardly any light coming through the window.

The thing that stood out about the pub was that it _didn't_ stand out. No, really… No one noticed it. It might be better to say that no one _normal_ noticed it. There were some extremely odd blokes dressed in something straight out of medieval times walking in and out yet **no one** noticed! It took him a little time, but it finally clicked. It must be magic!

He was giddy with excitement. He'd found the freaks! Not one to jump head first into something that could potentially be dangerous he sat back and got comfortable.

It must have been hours that he sat at that bench just observing the oddly dressed people. For the most part it seemed safe. There were a few rowdy drunks who stumbled out, but the majority of the folks seemed like normal sober people. Well, as normal as they could be. There were even a couple families that had exited, though he wasn't certain if they had ever entered in the first place.

Harry crept up and peered through the window. It was certainly a _dirty_ pub, but he felt confident that entering wouldn't be too bad. He straightened his back and swallowed nervously.

"Here goes nothing…" he pushed the door open and stepped into a cacophony of sound. People all around were talking loudly and singing drinking songs. A couple people were fighting or whispering in darker corners of the pub. It was… nice.

He could appreciate the disorganization. It felt full of life.

Walking up to the bar he climbed onto the too tall bar stool.

He eyed the barman critically while he waited for him to finish taking an order. He was **old**. He was hunched over with age and his bald head resembled a walnut. While he might not be an attractive man, Harry gathered that what he lacked in looks he made up for in personality. He could see the old man smiling his toothless grin and laughing at a few jokes from where he sat.

When he was done he walked over to Harry with a gummy smile.

"Hello, young man. Name 's Tom and I'm the owner of this fine pub. How may I help you?" he greeted.

Harry returned the smile, "Hello, sir. I saw this pub outside and noticed that no one else could see it. It wouldn't happen to be magic, would it?"

The old man's eyebrows raised and he narrowed his eyes as he appraised the boy sitting in his bar stool.

He looked vaguely familiar he thought.

When his eyes met with the lighting shaped scar on his forehead Tom's eyes widened. It was the boy who lived! He wondered what the boy was doing in his pub alone at this time of night.

"Why, yes it is. Muggleborn, I presume?" he asked deciding not to draw attention to the boy.

Harry's eyebrows scrunched up together in confusion.

"Excuse me? Muggle-what?"

"Muggleborn. A person born with magic to a muggle, non-magical, family" he explained.

Harry wasn't sure of the validity of that statement, but he agreed as he wasn't sure if his parents were magical or not.

"Well, then… This is the Leaky Cauldron. It's a pub that functions as the gate between the magical and muggle worlds. The muggles can't see it because it's charmed with muggle repelling and notice-me-not charms" the old man informed the boy.

"Ah… I see. Are there many places like this?" Harry asked curiously.

"No, entrances to the wizarding world are few. We keep separate and hidden from the muggle world. Didn't always used to be this way, but it got to be too dangerous to stay living among them. Kept trying to kill us off, they did. Don't know if the Statute of Secrecy will ever be lifted, but it won't be in this lifetime."

Harry nodded in understanding.

"I see… Is there a place that has books I could maybe read to learn more about the magical world? Maybe a magical library?"

Tom looked at the young boy curiously, "No, but there are shops that sell books in Diagon Alley. The entrance is in the back alley behind the pub. I'd show you the entrance, but most of the shops are closed now seeing as it's close to midnight. They won't open up again until 8 AM at least"

Harry's shoulders slumped and he sighed, "oh…"

"Why _are_ you here at such a late time? Won't your guardians be worried that you aren't home in your bed?" asked the barman.

Harry shifted in his seat nervously and pondered whether he was wrong in coming in here at this hour. He should have waited until tomorrow sometime. What a stupid move.

"Um… My relatives don't exactly care what I do as long as I'm not causing trouble" he half-lied.

They would definitely care that he was in a magical pub right now.

Tom eyed him suspiciously, but decided to let it go. It was late and the lad obviously didn't want to talk about it.

"I'm not going to say that I believe you. As a matter of fact, I think that you're probably a runaway, but it's late and putting you out wouldn't be safe. So, here's what's going to happen, lad. I'm going to put you up in a room for the night and in the morning, you can either pay me or help me around the pub." he said tossing the boy a skeleton key with a room number attached by a tag.

He caught it with ease and looked up at the man questioningly. What made him think he'd stay up in this strange pub where no one knew he was? He didn't fancy falling prey to a predator.

"You can either take the key and go upstairs to sleep in that room, or I'll floo the aurors, the magical bobbies and they can take you home. So how 'bout it?" he threatened.

Harry thanked the old man and rushed up the stairs that Tom had pointed out before he could change his mind. He would worry about the consequences tomorrow.

"Room number 13? Well, that's a good sign" he muttered sarcastically.

He swept inside and locked the door behind him. He grabbed the rickety wooden chair from behind an old wooden desk and leaned it up against the door handle to prevent anyone from opening the door just in case Tom was secretly a pervert. You could never be too safe.

He checked the room for cameras that could be used to spy on a young defenseless boy. He didn't find any, but he was still suspicious.

"Whatever, che sera, sera. At least there's a tub- not that I'm convinced it's been cleaned in the past century. Beggars can't be choosers, I guess." he said to no one in particular as he stripped off his clothes.

They clung to his body with his sweat and smelled quite a bit. He hadn't noticed while he was biking around London, but now that he was in the bathroom and lifting the shirt over his head he realized he was pretty disgusting right now.

He kicked his clothes into a corner leaving on his pants for now. He looked under the sink and in the closet for cleaning supplies, but there were none to be seen. There was only an old bar of soap sitting on sink. He grimaced at having to use a tub that hadn't been cleaned in ages, but decided it was better than nothing.

When the water filled the tub he climbed in pants and all. He figured it would act as a barrier between the tub and his bare arse. He smiled as the hot water soothed his aches and pains and imagined a future where he had a tub big enough to fit ten people all to himself and never had to worry about aches and pains again.

Using the old bar of soap he scrubbed his skin raw and washed his sweaty hair. It felt nice to take a bath in hot water and not be rushed to get clean for a change. He'd never been allowed to take a shower or bath for more than five minutes. And even then he'd never done so with hot -let alone warm- water.

When he was done he climbed out and dried himself with a thin towel before taking off his pants. Wrapping the towel around him like a loin cloth he grabbed his dirty clothes. He carefully emptied his pockets of the change and notes he had accumulated through various acts of thievery throughout the day and tossed the clothes into the soapy tub. He lathered his trousers, shirt, and pants with the soap and cleaned them as best he could. He emptied the water and wrung out his clothing before hanging it on the side of the tub. Tomorrow they would be clean and mostly dry for him to wear again.

He ran his hands through his damp hair and sat on the bed. He was so tired. He threw himself on the bed and rolled onto his back. He stared at the off-white ceiling and when over the day in his head. He'd 'collected' almost four-hundred pounds sterling in notes and change, his new bike was leaning outside the pub and might still be there in the morning if the don't-notice-me charms worked on things right outside the pub, and he'd learned there was a whole magical world. It was the best and most tiring day of his life. If he wasn't so exhausted he would be more excited. As it was, he fell asleep with the lights still on.

He woke up to the sunlight glaring down on his poor eyes through his too thin eyelids. Really, whoever had positioned the bed to be right in front of the bloody window is a bloody twat. He rolled over and groaned in frustration. It was too early to be awake! Not that he knew what time it was. However, he was pretty sure that if he didn't wake up by his own accord that it was too early.

Knowing that he was unlikely to be able to fall back asleep after he already woke up, he rolled out of bed. He dropped messily on the floor and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"The floor is too bloody cold!" he whined as he stood up and wiped the dust off of his bare arse.

He'd forgotten he fell asleep naked, but that was who he was. He was never one to remember unimportant things. He wasn't really the type to care.

He walked to the bathroom and hurriedly threw on his clothes. He splashed cold water on his face to hopefully force himself awake and jumped back in surprise when he heard a voice.

"You look like shite, mate" a feminine voice rang out.

Thinking he was once again hearing voices he looked around the room. Where was the voice coming from? First snakes talk and now bathrooms.

"Over here, bozo. Talking mirror! Haven't you ever seen one before?" it spat out sassily.

He wanted to yell at the mirror for surprising him, but he wasn't about to talk back to an inanimate object. It was a mirror, not a person.

He schooled his face and straightened out his damp clothes. The mirror was still talking to him, but he ignored her- it! Harry repocketed his money removed the chair under the door handle before exiting and locking the room behind him.

GrrRRuuUUhhhpp. His stomach growled.

"Huh, guess I'm hungry" he shrugged before stomping down the stairs to the pub.

He noticed there were a few people sitting down eating breakfast either at a table or around the bar. Hell, there was even a big burly man passed out in a corner. He obviously didn't make it home or to a room. Most people in the pub were just traveling through though. They were probably walking to or from the magic alley out back. Tom _did_ say that the pub was an entrance to the alley.

"Morning, Tom" Harry called out as he jumped up onto a bar stool.

'Curse my short legs!'

Tom turned around from drying glasses and smiled his empty mouthed grin.

"Morning, lad. I take it you slept well. It's almost noon"

Harry's eyes widened in shock. NOON? He'd never slept that late in his entire life.

"I can see you didn't know that. Anyway, do you have the key?" he held his hand out.

Harry placed the key in his hand and wondered if he would be able to afford the cost of one night's stay.

Tom put the key on a key rack and turned back to the boy with his eyebrow raised.

"The stay is 3 Galleons, will you be paying with money or work?" Tom asked knowing full well that the boy had no clue how wizard money worked. That was his intention. If the boy didn't know then he would ask and that would open up a new avenue of questions and recommendations. He debated if he should warn the lad of his fame or let him discover this fact himself.

"Galleon? I uh… I only have British pounds" Harry scratched his head nervously. Looks like he might be working off the cost of his stay.

"Ahh… Yes, I forgot you were muggleborn. What was your name again?" Tom asked politely while wiping the bar.

"I didn't. My name is Harry Potter, sir" he held his hand out for a shake

Tom took the hand firmly and greeted him, "Welcome to the wizarding world, Mr. Potter"

"I wouldn't go around telling people your name around these parts. You **are** quite famous, you know" Tom said in a low voice.

Harry's eyebrows raised. That was news to him.

"What do you mean I'm famous? Why shouldn't I tell people my name?" he asked incredulously.

"There was a war. You-Know-Who lead a band of blood purists who wanted to eliminate muggleborns and other non-pure peoples or beings. It was a messy ordeal. You didn't know who you could trust back then, and your parents learned that the hard way" he paused seeing the lads confusion.

"Sirius Black, a friend of your father's, betrayed them to You-Know-Who. They were hidden away and only one person knew their location. When Sirius Black betrayed their location, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named found them and killed them with the killing curse. They say he tried to kill you too, but when he struck you with the killing curse… it rebound and killed him. You're the Boy-Who-Lived. The only one to take a killing curse and survive. There are a lot of people that would pay to see you dead, Mr. Potter" he finished softly.

Harry's face was red with rage. His lying horse of an aunt had told him that they died in a car crash. His whole life she'd rubbed in his face how much they didn't love him. She'd slandered them with countless lies of how his mother was a cheap whore and his father a worthless drunk that got them killed in a wreck.

'That lying cunt!' he seethed to himself.

"I see…" he grit out as calmly as possible.

"Now, about the 3 Galleons. If you don't have Galleons you can get some notes exchanged into wizarding money at Gringotts, the wizarding bank. You should have an account there since you're a Potter. I'd ask about that if you don't have enough money to exchange. Would you like me to go with you? Just this once." Tom asked.

Lost in anger, Harry nodded mutely and followed Tom out the back into an alley. He paid attention to the pattern that Tom tapped onto the brick wall so he could use it later and then proceeded to ignore all else until they arrived at two large doors.

"Well, this is the bank. The creatures guarding it and working as tellers are called Goblins. They're shrewd little savages. Don't get on their bad side and you'll be fine. I trust you remember the way back to the pub so I'll just be on my way. You'll have to ask them for blood verification since you don't have your vault key. If you're curious as to if you have more than the Potter vaults you can ask for an inheritance test as well. Most purebloods don't get them done until they hit the age of majority, but I figure since you're the last Potter you might be interested to know if you've inherited other vaults or have other family out there." he added as an after thought.

Harry nodded and entered after Tom walked away.

His absentmindedness disappeared when he walked through the entrance. There were short little pointy eared creatures with long fingers and sharp teeth everywhere. He hadn't fully been listening to Tom as he was talking, and he was starting to regret it.

Nervously he walked up to the teller window and coughed to get the busy goblin's attention.

The goblin looked up with a sneer. He was busy and didn't feel like wasting time on some puny little urchin of a boy.

"Yes?" the goblin asked.

Harry was taken aback by the rudeness, but shook his head clear.

"Um, I'm here to inquire about my account and exchange some money into Galleons" he said warily.

The goblin scowled at the boy and put down the quill he had been using to write.

"Key?" he asked with his hand extended.

The little creature sighed heavily when Harry informed him that he didn't have one. His anger was starting to come back due to the creature's attitude, but he shoved it down and requested a blood and inheritance test as instructed by Tom. He doubted he would have any results besides his parent's supposed vault, but he figured it was interesting enough to try.

"That will be 12 galleons," the goblin hissed impatiently.

"Would you like to pay up front or have us remove the money from any accounts discovered?"

The little wizard was getting on his nerves. Time is money, and the little human was wasting his time.

"Remove the fee from any existing or discovered accounts, please" Harry requested.

The goblin climbed down from his seat and motioned for Harry to follow him. He followed the goblin down the hall and into a small office room. It was a very Spartan office. There was one intricately carved oak chair behind an equally exquisite oak desk, two simple cushioned chairs facing the desk, and a beautiful white crystal bowl in the middle of the desk.

The goblin climbed into the seat behind the desk and motioned for the boy to be seated.

Harry sat down and watched as the goblin withdrew a silver ritual knife from a drawer. The goblin placed it down on the desk in front of Harry and ordered him to take it and cut an incision onto his palm.

"The tests need blood. Simply allow your blood to spill within this bowl and we will begin."

Harry gulped loudly. Shaky hands grabbed the knife and held themselves over the bowl. Wanting to get it over with before he panicked Harry quickly sliced across his palm. Blood immediately beaded up and began to pour from his palm. He watched in fascination as the bowl seemed to drink the blood.

The goblin muttered something in an unintelligible before Harry's hand glowed red and began to mend itself. The wound closed and the goblin muttered another spell before waving his hand over the bowl.

The bowl that was once empty of blood began to fill back up with a thick black ink. He withdrew a long gryphon quill and golden parchment from a different drawer and placed them on the desk. He waved his hand over the quill and it lifted up and dipped itself in the bowl of ink. Like a straw the quill sucked up the inky substance until there was none left before floating over to the parchment. It lowered itself and began writing with a flourish.

The goblin leant back against his chair and closed his eyes. This was the longest part of the spell. It would write the names of all of the people in his family tree for as long as there was magical blood. For some it stopped writing at the grandparents and for others it kept going until what the muggles would call the stone age.

Harry's mind was blown. His name wasn't Harry! His name was Hardwin James Potter-Black. He wondered if his never knew this fact or just neglected to tell him. He wouldn't put it past her to spite him by denying him his birth name. He didn't have a problem with being called Harry since it was a perfectly good nickname for Hardwin, but it was still mind boggling. It's as if his whole life had been a lie just because he had not known one little tiny fact. An important tiny fact, mind you. It was even more boggling when he realized that he couldn't have gotten the Black surname from either of his parents.

Ten minutes had passed, and Harry was growing bored. How long into his family tree was this quill trying to go? He'd read the names of his parents, grandparents, and great grandparents anxious to see if there were any other surprises before he decided to sit back and wait. The quill had yet to slow down and he wondered what this meant for him.

After and additional five minutes he let out a quiet whoop of elation. It was done!

The goblin opened his eyes and peered at the parchment. He waved his hand and the quill floated into the still open drawer. He took the parchment with a bored expression and began to read it from the bottom up. It wasn't until he got to the very top of it that he paused and glanced up at Harry.

"Well, Mr. Potter, it seems that you are certainly of interesting heritage. Your ancestry goes back past the bronze age, 1375BC to be exact," the goblin drawled.

"What does that mean for me?" Harry asked curiously.

"It means that your mother was not quite as muggleborn as the wizarding world was lead to believe. The first instance of magical blood in her ancestry was in Crete from a woman named Adrasteia daughter of Tyche and some muggle man. It's not often that wizards have divine blood. Most demigods die before they are able to reproduce. I suppose you have Tyche to thank for her survival after all, she is the goddess of luck," the goblin explained.

"Gods are real!?" Harry jumped up in surprise.

"Indeed. Now, that would seem to be the most interesting of your ancestors. The most relevant, being those that you have or will inherite from, would be: Iolanthe Potter nee Peverell, Lily Marie Potter nee Evans, James Abraham Potter, Sirius Orion Black, Hellen Agnes Alexopoulos, and Melisandre Aurora Fawley."

Harry about fell out of his chair in surprise. He was inheriting from Sirius Black?

"How am I inheriting from Sirius Black? He got my parents killed. I highly doubt he would want to leave me anything!" he shouted incredulously.

The goblin raised its thin eyebrow at Harry and sneered.

"The wizards, as per usual, neglected to get their facts straight. If they had consulted with Gringotts it would have been discovered that via a blood adoption you were made the heir of Sirius Orion Black. He was set to take custody of you should your parents ever have died. It was written into their wills."

"That still doesn't explain why he would try to get us killed! If I'm his bloody adopted son, wouldn't it be crazy to betray us and have us murdered?" Harry asked.

Things were just not adding up. People didn't just adopt someone and then try to kill their kid.

"Your parents were under the protection of the Fidelius charm. Their secret keeper, as stated in their wills, was one Peter Pettigrew. Sirius Black was thrown into Azkaban without a trial for the murder of thirteen muggles and the still alive Mr. Pettigrew. They either don't know or don't care about their error, and Gringotts does not meddle in the affairs of wizards," the goblin explained wishing Harry would stop asking so many questions.

Harry's face went red and the chair next to him caught fire. His magic whipped around him angrily feeding off his emotions.

'They threw my adopted father into prison without a trial! The wizarding world just left us to rot because they were too lazy to ask Gringotts a bloody question!?'

"In any case, it's out of our hands. I anticipate you will ask about your other relatives so let me inform you of your relation and why you are gaining this inheritance."

The goblin handed Harry the parchment as he had no more use for it.

"Iolanthe Potter nee Peverell, one of your paternal grandmothers left a vault that her children either didn't or couldn't claim. I would guess it is the latter. Hellen Agnes Alexopoulos was a maternal aunt whose children died before they could claim their inheritance, as her closest living relative you may inherit any of her moneys or properties. Melisandre Aurora Fawley is a paternal cousin. She is still alive, but is old and childless. As she does not have a son to inherit, you as the closest living male relative will inherit in the event of her death. You would have to talk to an account manager in order to learn what exactly you inherit from any of these relatives, but that is all of the pertinent information."

Harry rolled the parchment and tucked it into a pocket before standing.

"How do I gain access to the vaults and properties if I don't have a key?"

The goblin stood and made to exit the office.

"That, Mr. Potter, is not my concern. If you show that parchment to one of the account managers, I am sure they would be willing to assist you. Probably…" he muttered as he exited the room.

Harry watched the goblin leave and sat back down in the chair running his hands through his hair. There was a lot he needed to know. Coming here had just opened up more questions than he even knew he should be asking. Why did it have to be so complicated? And why were goblins so rude and uncooperative? He had wanted to kick the little shite of a goblin through the whole process.

How could he just casually drop the fact that he was blood adopted- whatever that was- by the man who had purportedly killed his family? Did he understand the meaning of tact or sympathy?

It was just too much… He wasn't even Harry James Potter!

"Sod it. I'm not dealing with this today. I'm just going to get a new key and get the Hell out of here" he grumbled schooling his face.

There was plenty of time to deal with all of the new discoveries. Right now, he just wanted time to get his mind wrapped around the information overload he was having.


End file.
